


Crossroads and Never Looking Back

by SHSL_ex_SOLDIER



Series: they're in lesbians with each other [1]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: F/F, but damn i will make it WORTH IT, can a rarepair get any rarer than this?, i swear this is gay if you give it a try, the mature lesbians we deserve, this may be the only content for them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-13 22:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11769744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHSL_ex_SOLDIER/pseuds/SHSL_ex_SOLDIER
Summary: She’s definitely too drunk to think straight. Nevermind, she never thinks straight anyways.





	Crossroads and Never Looking Back

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it this far then I thank you for choosing to give this fic a shot. I swear I'll make your time worth it. Enjoy them mature lesbians.

Lately, most of the exciting stuff happens when Ohya is drunk— or so she reasons with Lala when she was refused another refill.

“Turning down business again? You don’t get your paycheck with service charge, ya know,” Ohya slurs while raising her still empty glass.

“Oh, believe me honey, I know. I would have been rich from just serving you alone if that were the case.” Lala shakes her head, ignoring her customer’s blatant order of another round of drinks.

Ohya smiles a bit too happily for someone who was turned down for a drink. She’s obviously not one who takes ‘no’ easily. “Thanks but I ordered booze not praise.”

“I wasn’t praising you. You may not be counting your glasses but I do. Any more and you’ll pass out.” Lala sighs and pours her a glass but to Ohya’s disappointment, it’s just water. She drinks it anyways with Lala’s stern glare telling her she didn’t have a choice. “I love you hun, but I’m not taking care of you after hours.”

“You’re so mean, Lala-chan!” Ohya whines and none of the other patrons of the bar even bat an eyelid at the commotion. It’s as if it was a usual sight, random drunk outbursts, and with Ohya it might as well have been. She slumps over the counter, dejected, with her glass of water swishing. “After everything we’ve been through! You’re just going to leave me sleeping with the dogs!”

“You’ll be lucky if it’s just dogs that’ll sleep with you. You know how this district is at night and how some men don’t have standards.” Lala admonished. It was meant to be a warning, a friend’s cautionary chiding, maybe even a guardian’s light scolding. But whatever it was meant to be, Ohya focused on all the wrong details.

There was a pause. Ohya straightened herself in her seat and for the first time tonight, she looked practically sober. With a certain seriousness in her eyes, she asks, “Are you saying I’m unattractive?”

“Well you certainly look the part right now.” Lala answers with equal seriousness.

“Don’t sass me.” Ohya barks with a glare so fierce that it would have a lesser man cowering in fear. Which meant Lala was immune to it. Frustrated with her obviously biased company, Ohya searches for another’s opinion.

And that’s when her eyes land on the lady two seats away from her.

“Hey, you.” She calls her out with a snap of her fingers.

“Hm?” The woman turns her head and looks at her curiously.

“Yes, you! The woman in black dressed to kill both figuratively and literally.” Ohya points at her just to clarify whom she was talking about. The woman in question simply raises an eyebrow in interest and that’s enough confirmation for Ohya that she’s willing to entertain her. She doesn’t waste time with pleasantries and gets straight to the point. “Do you think I’m attractive?”

Before the woman could reply, Lala immediately intervenes with a disapproving frown, “Ichiko-chan, you know my policy. No bothering of other customers.” She turns to the woman and politely bows. “Please excuse her rude behavior. She’s had too much and has trouble controlling herself.”

“Oh, hush, Lala-chan!” Ohya cuts her off not because the words did damage to her pride, but more importantly, “We still haven’t heard her speak!”

The woman merely chuckles at the scene unfolding in front of her. She doesn’t look at all bothered by it, if anything, she must have been amused. “It’s alright. I could do with some light convo.” She says with a voice so smooth that it distracts both of them. Whiskey on the rocks. Her voice reminds Ohya of that particular drink. Strong with bold flavor and goes down smooth. Seductive. It goes well with the way she carries herself, or so Ohya thinks.

Now that Ohya looks at her, she starts to see the finer details about this mysterious stranger. Dark blue hair in a bob-cut, full bangs, and if Ohya squints hard enough she thinks that her eyes are a nice shade of deep brown. Again, Ohya suddenly thirsts for whiskey on the rocks. The woman deftly pushes her hair behind her ear and Ohya takes note of the lush red nail polish that matches her lipstick. The color is vibrant and striking and it goes well with her black outfit consisting of a studded choker, bracelet, short jacket, ripped leggings, and a blue dress with a white spiderweb design. She looks like she walked out of a punk shop and the mischievous lilt in her voice almost confirms it.

If the question had been the other way around, then Ohya wouldn’t have any trouble finding the words. This woman is undeniably attractive. Enviously so. It makes her a bit conscious of her obviously ‘just got out of work and got shitfaced’ outfit. But not too conscious to care. Besides, she wasn’t going for that attractive anyways, just attractive. Well, at least attractive enough in this woman’s eyes. It’s not like she cared about her beauty, who needs that when you’ve got confidence? Except she’s feeling less confident about this the longer the awkward pause gets. God, out of all the random strangers, she just had to pick one who was actually hot.

She’s definitely too drunk to think straight. Nevermind, she never thinks straight anyways.

“If I had to answer honestly then…” The woman pauses as if giving this more serious thought than expected from her. She isn’t even discreet when her eyes checks out Ohya. She’s got looks and guts, and Ohya makes a mental note of this. It feels like minutes under her scrutinizing gaze even though it actually only lasts for mere seconds. Eventually, she looks away with a small smile. Teasing. “From a professional point of view, you’re not at all attractive.”

“Spot on,” Lala agrees as if on cue, as if she had been expecting that kind of answer all along. So much for confidence. It kind of leaves a dent in Ohya’s pride but it’s still solid enough for her to not admit that out loud.

So Ohya does what anyone would do in the face of saving face. She laughs it off. “What? Professional? Ha! Who says that? What are you, some kind of scout or something?”

“Far from it.” The woman’s eyes crinkle in mirth with a joke that only she gets. “Just that in my profession, drunks are never attractive.”

“Pssh, drunks aren’t exactly attractive in any profession.” Ohya snorts at the half-assed answer. This woman is clearly overselling the mysterious charm. Had she been any younger and illusioned, she would have been swooning. But Ohya is none of that. She’s a mature and practical woman who knows better that mysteries are just well kept secrets. And the investigative journalist in her is practically yelling at her to uncover the truth.

“That’s true with the exception of bars and any other alcohol-related businesses.” The woman reasonably argues which earns a knowing chuckle from Lala.

The deflection didn’t pass by Ohya’s honed skills as she steers back the conversation. “So does your profession have a name or is it on a need-to-know basis?” She wears a carefree face that looks seemingly natural to untrained eyes.

“Why the sudden interest? You sound like a journalist,” The woman comments as if she’s already figured out Ohya’s profession.

Like the professional that she is, Ohya neither confirms or denies it. Instead she leans forward and goads her, “And if I am, would that make you more reluctant to share?”

“Perhaps if I had anything to hide.” The woman’s smile is eerily ominous, neither confirming or denying if she does in fact have anything to hide. But she does admit her profession. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for you to know. I’m actually a doctor.”

Whatever job Ohya was expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. That just raises more questions than it does answers. For a moment, she actually fumbles with her thoughts. Speechless. It leaves her jaw hanging.

“You. A doctor.” Ohya lets the foreign words out of her mouth and the strangeness of it all leaves an aftertaste. She takes one good look at her, maybe several, trying to match the words with what she sees, trying to make a connection. It’s hard to imagine even when she was already in front of her. It’s not that she was judging her or anything, it’s just that her doctors were never this punk or this hot. It’s a bit unbelievable. “Really?” She asks again, still in disbelief.

“Really.” The woman repeats with a tempered expression. Ohya recognizes that look. This isn’t the first time this woman has dealt with this kind of reaction apparently. It makes her feel a bit guilty considering that she was the one who pried first.

Well shit. Ohya may be drunk but she wouldn’t want to ruin anyone’s night over it. So she downs the rest of her water just so she could be as sober as she could get. The glass hits the counter with a satisfying thunk and the sound is sharp enough to bring back her tactfulness. “I believe you. Just surprised, is all.” She honestly admits that much and the woman simply nods, not bothering to speak after that.

There’s a lull in the conversation.

It’s awkward and damn suffocating, and Ohya needs more alcohol to deal with this mess she’s made. She doesn’t get her drink but the thirst inspires a thought in her. She taps at the rim of her glass as she asks tentatively, “Tell me, if you’re not a big fan of drunks then what are you doing here in a bar talking to a drunk like me?”

When the woman chuckles, it’s light and carefree, and it sounds more intoxicating than any drink that Ohya’s had tonight. Oddly enough, it still has her craving for alcohol. Champagne specifically. She feels like celebrating. That and she just really wants to drink some more. She wants to drink to this small victory. She thinks that champagne goes well with the woman’s laughter. She feels like getting drunk all over again but for different reasons.

The woman takes a sip from her own glass, her shoulders now less stiff after that burst of laughter. “I said professionally. Habitual drinkers never have the best medical records.” She takes another sip, more leisurely this time, and Ohya has to stop herself from swallowing at the sight. Her red lips remind her of red wine and how suddenly she’s found herself thirsty again. If the woman noticed her staring, she didn’t say. But she did give her a sideway glance and say, “Personally, I think you’re kind of cute.”

And Ohya thinks she must be so drunk to have imagined all of this.

She bursts out laughing, practically guffawing. “Cute? Ahahaha! Is that right? Me, cute?” She laughs harder than she should have but she can’t help it. It’s just so hilarious! This attractive woman just called her cute. Cute. Oh crap, she’s blushing. She’s blushing so hard. She knows that they both know that she can’t blame all this on the booze but she can damn try. She’s too sober to take on compliments. God, why did she have to be hot? It’s messing with her head. Hey, if she’s lucky maybe ‘cute’ is her type. “Yeah, I’ll take that. I’m not exactly in my best form. Wait until I’m sober, then I’ll have you say I’m hot.” She almost slurs at the end, definitely not her most charming moment.

“Hmm… is that so?” The woman answers vaguely with just the slightest hint of interest. However, the sparkle in her eyes tell Ohya that there may be more than just polite interest. “And when exactly are you sober?”

“...” The unexpected question (invitation?) has Ohya sober on the spot.

They both stare at each other with unreadable expressions and unsaid expectations.

And screw it. Maybe this woman knows what she’s getting herself into or maybe she’s getting tipsy too. At least Ohya knows that she’s shitfaced as hell but even so, she sounds perfectly sober when she eventually asks her out, “How does Saturday lunch sound to you?”

“Sounds like a date to me.” The woman smiles devilishly and goddamn that’s hot as hell.

The comment brings a wolfish grin out of Ohya. Damn this is really happening. “Then it’s a date!” She turns to the person who’s been quietly eavesdropping the whole time, with a triumphant look on her face. “Lala-chan, get me and my new acquaintance here two glasses of Dom Perignon!”

Lala merely shakes her head as she takes out the bottle. “I thought you were going for sober.”

“That’s for Saturday. Tonight, we drink!”

And drink they did. This was definitely one of the more interesting nights of Ohya. After all, she got acquainted with quite an interesting doctor. The bar wasn’t called Crossroads for nothing.

 

 

* * *

 

“Well don’t you look a little too comfortable in that?”

The week came and passed by swiftly. The two maintained contact through messages but only to confirm their schedule for the weekend. The less they talked on phone, the more they would have to look forward to in person— or so Ohya casually said before dropping all forms of contact until the said date. When Saturday came, Takemi half-expected Ohya to still be off the radar but she wasn’t disappointed when her date showed up in clothes that she more or less expected.

“I was hoping my natural hotness would be more than enough to charm you.”

Ohya’s fashion style was comfort. From the orange sunglasses perched on her head down to the worn down sneakers on her feet. What you see is what you get and Takemi saw a practical woman. Ever prepared, she even has her water bottle, fanny pack and her camera with her. It’s more comfort than fashionable really and if there’s even anything remotely fashionable with her then she must have been placing all her faith on her shirt’s print. LOW LIFE FIGHT THE POWER. It’s not exactly ‘dress to impress’ material but Takemi has to admire her tenacity. However, no matter what comment she could throw about Ohya’s outfit, she can never utter a single insult against her makeup. For someone who could be a slob, she sure knows how to clean up well.

From the train station they walked until they reached Inokashira Park. It was what you would expect from a public park— full of people, mostly couples and families, noisy but overall peaceful. It’s still a breath of fresh air from the cityscape. Definitely a refreshing change of pace. Still, there’s more people than they would have liked so they went into the more secluded areas before they decided to pick up the conversation again.

“So this is what you consider fun when you’re not drunk off your ass.” Takemi comments idly.

“Do I hear swooning?” Ohya smiles charmingly as she shoots her an expectant look.

“All I hear is wishful thinking.” Takemi shoots down just one of her many flirtatious remarks. She doubts this will get Ohya discouraged to hold back nor does she want her to. Ohya’s acting just as much as Takemi expects of her but on the other hand, this place seemed like an out of character pick. “Not bad. I’m surprised you’d pick such a laidback activity. And here I was worried you’d pick a more… exciting place.”

“Please, I’m all the excitement you need!” Ohya declares with all the confidence of a self-made journalist which is a lot. It only lasts for the whole sentence and maybe a second more for dramatic effect. Immediately after, she drops the haughty act and deadpans, “Not. As if a cheesy line like that would work on you.”

Takemi has half the mind to tell her that she’s been spouting cheesier lines than that ever since their date started. The other half reminds her that pointing that out might be taken as encouragement.

Ohya stretches languidly and Takemi makes a mental note of the joints that she hears pop. She just looks even more exhausted after that stretch. Or just tired in general. Most likely the latter. “Who are we kidding? We already have enough excitement at work. Not sure about you but I like to reward myself with less stress after a week full of it.”

“We share the same ideal in that regard. It seems we’ll get along just fine.” Takemi hums on a relieved note. “Honestly, if you took me to someplace dubious I would have left you.”

And Ohya, the devil of a woman that she is, just smiles schemingly.

“Who says that I don’t have any plans like that for the afternoon?” She insinuates with eyes that are practically sparkling with mischief.

Takemi would be lying if she said that her heart didn’t skip a beat in excitement.

But as a doctor, she never lies. And as a woman, she never tells. “Do you really?” She challenges her.

“Guess you’ll just have to find out after lunch.” Ohya casually replies as if that’s enough of an answer. And maybe it is for now.

Without warning, without even hesitation, she reaches out to hold Takemi’s hand. They share a knowing look and when Takemi neither looks away nor pulls her hand back, Ohya’s devilish grin comes back with a vengeance. And Takemi can see the danger written on her smile. It’s reckless, it’s exciting, it’s tempting. Dealing with Ohya comes with the sense of danger that warns Takemi that she’s dealing with the devil. She’s completely aware of it and yet she lets herself be tempted every time. Because damn, she’s clearly enjoying this.

“Now let’s talk while we walk. I want to hear all about your juicy stories at the clinic.” She demands as she happily sways their clasped hands in between their strides.

Despite appearing aloof throughout this, there’s an aura of vigilance surrounding her as they walk. Takemi notices how Ohya’s eyes are focused— just not at her. Rather they are focused on anyone but them, careful to see everyone who could be looking, and careful not to be seen by any of them. She understands when Ohya suddenly pulls back their hands just out of sight or when she tenses at the voices of other people. She understands her concerns all too well. Just because they were open about this doesn’t mean that other people were open-minded.

Still, Takemi thought that it was her turn to put in some effort. Since Ohya is giving it her all so they could avoid any untoward incident, she might as well enjoy it while at it. “And here I thought you asked me out on a date. Is this an interview?”

Ohya brushes off the accusation. “No, this is us getting to know each other.” She says matter-of-factly and then playfully adds, “The interview isn’t on until the third date.”

“You make it sound like there’ll be a third date, assuming there’s a second.” Takemi retorts.

“Oh I know there’ll be a third date. And then some more.” Ohya says with enough confidence to convince Takemi. Her smile is persuasive and every bit devilish. “You’re going to be in for one hell of a ride.”

The ride lasts longer than any of them expected it to.

 

* * *

 

“What did I miss?”

Despite having dates elsewhere every now and then, on some nights they still end up at Crossroads. Sometimes not on the best terms.

“Takemi! Babe, you’re here!” Ohya shouts with a goofy smile that could have been cute if the circumstances were different.

“And you’re intoxicated. More so than usual.” Takemi points out with a scowl. She grimaces when she smells the abrasive scent of alcohol off her breath.

“That I am. But what else is new?” Ohya admits with a shrug. She tries to take another swig but the scowl on her face and the empty glass shows how that went. She whines at the cruelty of it all and complains louder when no one seems to pay attention to her. She’s a mess.

It’s never easy seeing Ohya like this but it’s happened more often than not that Takemi has gotten used to it enough unfortunately. That doesn’t mean she approves of it any more each time.

However disappointing, she still remembers her manners every time and politely bows to the cherished bartender. “Thanks for looking after her as always, Lala-chan. I’ll take it from here.”

“Don’t thank me, hun. It’s my job. You’re the one actually cleaning up Ichiko-chan’s mess.” Lala shakes her head in sympathy. There’s not much she could do aside from pouring the drunk journalist another glass of water. It’s actually a relief that there’s someone else looking after her now and Lala makes sure to express her gratitude. “I don’t know how Ohya kept her liver before she met you.”

“Rude!” Ohya snorts indignantly and lets her glass hit the counter louder than necessary. She sounds more drunk than offended but she likes to think otherwise despite her words slurring. “I’ll have you know that my liver is as strong as steel! And it demands a refill!”

“Not on my watch.” Takemi rejects her with a glare that burns harder than any alcoholic beverage. “Drink some water before I take you home.” It’s not a suggestion but an order— doctor’s order. She takes the glass of water and places it near Ohya’s lips, unrelenting until she finally drinks and finishes the whole glass.

“Well you’re no fun.” Ohya pouts, the gesture childish, although her glare is anything but. She sounds pissed and she makes it a point that Takemi knows that. “You’re not my mom, ya know.”

“Your mom wouldn’t do half of the things I do to you.” Takemi deadpans. She doesn’t even wait for Ohya’s retort as she already pulls her up on her feet. They’re already walking even though the sensation feels so far away from Ohya. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hears Takemi bid goodnight to Lala. Somewhere further back is the thought that she’s not drunk enough to block out the walk back home.

The walk is quiet but only because Ohya is uncharacteristically quiet. She always is on nights like these. On nights where she drinks away and talks about anything but whatever was bothering her. She only talks at Crossroads— only to Lala. She never talks as much with Takemi and Takemi never asks. Well she did one time but Ohya never did answer so it’s always been quiet on the walks back nights like these.

Except tonight. Tonight Ohya feels like not talking at all and talking to just about anyone. She’s restless. No amount of alcohol can wash away the horrible taste of her anxiety but she tried anyways. And Takemi, god she didn’t deserve to deal with her shit. Even in the haze of Ohya’s mind, she can still clearly see the look of disappointment she had when she came to pick her up at the bar. Her face was pressed with concern but her eyes were filled with something more heartbreaking. She never says it out loud though. Ohya never points it out and so Takemi never speaks up.

Takemi is quiet.

“Are you mad?”

“...”

And Ohya has never liked this kind of quiet.

“You’re mad, aren’t you?” Ohya says it more as a statement than a question. Takemi doesn’t even answer.

They continue walking. Quiet.

Ohya leans a bit closer and murmurs, “Sorry for having you put up with my bullshit.”

So quiet.

“If you’re really sorry then you would quit.” Takemi says even though they’ve already gone down this road before.

“I know. Sorry...” Ohya whispers with her head practically leaning on Takemi’s shoulder. She mumbles softly, “Sorry, I don’t think I’ll be quitting anytime soon. Not until… it’s over.”

Takemi sighs and it’s the kind of sigh that’s more exhausted than frustrated. She affectionately combs through Ohya’s hair with her fingers. “Just don’t make it a habit.” With that light chiding, she kisses the crown of her hair.

It’s enough to make Ohya smile. “I don’t make any promises I can’t keep.”

Takemi shakes her head. “Why do I even bother?”

“You tell me.” Ohya quips with a chuckle.

The rest of the walk is still just as quiet but it’s not as unpleasant as before.

Every now and then, Ohya gets these moments. She feels like there’re words on the tip of her tongue but that same tongue feels heavy in her mouth. She feels like talking. She also feels like talking is a hassle. She can’t make up her mind. And she doesn’t have a clue on what’s going on in Takemi’s mind.

So when Takemi actually talks, Ohya isn’t so sure on what she’s more surprised about. Takemi’s initiative or the topic she brought up? Maybe both. Takemi doesn’t look all too sure either when she suddenly asks, “Is this about… Murakami?”

Ohya blinks. It’s weird, hearing someone else talk about her old partner, and hearing the same worry that’s been eating at her all night and on all of those other nights. She feels nauseous. Suddenly, all of the alcohol in her system is rioting against her. She wants to puke. She wants to puke rather than feel all of these emotions swirl inside of her. But she knows Takemi and she knows better than to puke her emotions out— alcohol induced or not. She wants to talk to Takemi. She wants to talk about Murakami. She wants to talk to Takemi about Murakami.

But instead she conveniently forgets how to use her voice and just barely croaks out, “Yeah…”

And that seems to be more than enough for Takemi. “I see…” She doesn’t make any other comment and Ohya is a bit relieved over that.

They walk back, closely but still quietly.

“Thanks for hauling my drunk ass again.” Ohya says with a laugh once they reach her apartment. She fumbles with the keys and after a few failed attempts, Takemi takes over for her. She just gives her a sheepish grin as thanks.

“Well someone has to or else poor Lala-chan will have to deal with your mess.” Takemi says as she opens the lock for her and practically drags her inside with the door closing behind them.

“Hey, I may be a mess but at least I’m a hot mess!” Ohya declares all too loudly that she has to wince at her own voice. She falls back on Takemi and the doctor readily catches her.

“I suspect that’s the fever.” Takemi scoffs but she still checks her temperature just in case.

Ohya pouts at that rejection but even so, she leans toward Takemi’s touch with a slight pur. “When are you ever going to admit that I’m hot?”

“Certainly not when you’re drunk,” Takemi says in a tone that’s both chastising and endearing at the same time. She moves her hand from the forehead, down the cheek, until she’s caressing Ohya’s jaw. She smiles a bit when she feels her sigh in contentment.

“Oh come on. You can’t tell me that you don’t find this hot.” Ohya insists and Takemi already has a witty retort prepared.

But it gets forgotten when Ohya presses her lips on Takemi’s.

The kiss is sloppy at first and Takemi blames the lack of motor control on the account of Ohya’s alcohol intake. Being kissed by a drunk is hardly flattering and it’s certainly not one of the most romantic experiences out there but she doesn’t mind. It’s not so bad. That or she’s just gotten used to bad so much that it’s normal now. Takemi can taste the cheap booze that Ohya drinks whenever she just wants to get drunk. It tastes absolutely horrible but even so she doesn’t pull away. Tasting it on Ohya’s tongue doesn’t make it taste any better but she finds herself doing it anyway. And Ohya happily kisses her if all of this feels good. And it does. Goddamn it does.

She’s a bad influence, that Ohya. Even though Takemi has been trying to get her to lay low on the alcohol, she finds herself turning into an alcoholic. She doesn’t drink though. She doesn’t drink as much as Ohya, and as far as drinking goes, she hasn’t gone out drinking more so than before she met the journalist. No, she isn’t into drinking, she’s just taken a keen interest in alcohol specifically. She isn’t so much into alcohol in a glass, as much as she is into alcohol on the lips. Whenever she kisses Ohya like this, she gets reminded of just how addicting alcohol could be as she drinks in more of her.

Still, someone has to monitor their alcohol intake. And so Takemi pulls away eventually, but not without a scowl. “Ugh, disgusting as always. I am never kissing your drunk mouth again.”

“Guess I’ll just have to pick up the slack in this relationship,” Ohya teases with that devil of a smile of hers before kissing her senseless again.

Takemi is no drunk but Ohya makes a determined effort to turn her into one.

 

 

* * *

 

“A coffee shop, really?”

Cafe Leblanc. After weeks of dodging Takemi’s invites to drink something other than alcohol, Ohya finally caved in. It’s not like she was particularly against it, it was just so much more fun messing with the doctor. That is until she finally had enough and resorted to… other methods. Ohya had to hand it to her, Takemi knew how to hold her own. So here they are in front of possibly the only cafe that she’s ever heard Takemi speak so highly of. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious but she’s honestly more interested in seeing a different venue.

“And here I thought you were finally going to take me back to your place.” Ohya complains in a tone that sounds more playful than disappointed.

“If you behave well enough, I might think about making that detour.” Takemi easily retorts, already used to their light banter.

“Or we could skip this and I lead the way there right now.” Ohya suggests with a scheming smile.

“I don’t believe I ever volunteered my address to you.”

“Didn’t have to. I have my sources.”

“And I have the law against trespassing.” Takemi says with a note of finality. Before Ohya could even form a retort, she’s already leading her towards the cafe. “Now come on. We need you to drink something better than alcohol.”

“Excuse you. I perfectly enjoy my disgusting drink.” Ohya scoffs in mock offense.

“See, you’ve had so much that it’s already poisoned your mind.” Takemi points out matter-of-factly.

“For a doctor, you make some pretty unscientific claims.”

“For a girlfriend, you should know that I’m dumping your ass if you say no.”

They stare each other down. Quiet.

Eventually, Ohya shrugs with a carefree smile on her lips. “You got me there.” And Takemi huffs in agreement as they carry on from there.

The door opens and they are greeted by a familiar sight.

“Welcome!” Akira cheers from behind the counter.

“Guinea pig.”

“Informant?”

The two women spoke at the same breath which has both of them surprised.

“You two know each other?” Takemi asks, clearly not expecting this development.

“I could ask the same of you.” Ohya instinctively answers with a dodge. She knows she has nothing to hide to her girlfriend but it’s a knee-jerk reaction as a journalist. Her eyes shift over to the third party who seems too nonchalant about it all. This kid got connections apparently and given his nature, she doesn’t even question it. “You know what. I’m not even surprised.”

Takemi seems to be on the same page so they leave it at that. She casually turns to the barista. “Is Boss out?”

Akira makes a wave with his hand. “Just for a while.”

“I’m surprised he put you in charge.” She points out because although she’s aware that he’s been helping out, she has never seen him go at it alone.

“Yeah, me too.” He agrees with a genuine small smile. He looks so proud, it’s endearing. His smile never leaves even as he walks towards the door. “Anyways, please sit. I’m going to flip the sign to CLOSED.”

That got Ohya’s interest. “Closing so soon? What kind of store hours do you have?”

“Flexitime.” Akira says and his smile turns into a smirk at the snap of his fingers. Him and his dramatic flair.

“Flexitime is for employees not stores.” She flicks his forehead and shakes her head when he just laughs it off. “You’re going to go out of business at this rate.”

“It’s fine. Boss won’t mind for these occasions.” He dismisses her concern with a shrug and just to prove his point, he flips the sign like he owns the place. There’s something smug with the way he smiles, teasing. “Besides, I thought you two could use the privacy.”

Ah… that obvious, huh? Or maybe the cheeky brat was just that perceptive. Either way, they haven’t exactly been subtle in his presence since the two of them were already used to his non-judging eyes. Besides, the blushes were a dead giveaway. Still, the kid could use a bit more tact. If really wanted to sell the romantic atmosphere to them then he should have been more discreet. They’ll workshop him on that next time.

“Well aren’t you trying too hard? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were trying to steal Lala-chan’s spot as my favorite barista.” Ohya jests but it’s all in good humor because a part of her is immensely relieved that he’s okay with this.

“You’re not getting any extra services for this. But I will keep this in mind the next time you need medicine.” Takemi shows her gratitude in her own way as well.

“I’ll get you two the specials. Kurusu discount.” He says with a wink. He’s a terrible business owner if he keeps giving away free meals like this. “Enjoy your date!”

“Huh, you were right. This place isn’t half bad.” Ohya comments idly although they both know it’s more about the special service than the place itself.

“Save your review when you’ve had the coffee.” Takemi reminds her as she takes Ohya by the hand to lead them to their seats.

They sit at the farthest booth out of habit. But at least this time they could sit beside each other rather than across. Ohya in particular seizes this opportunity and leans on Takemi’s shoulder, nuzzling. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts through the air and it brings a soothing warmth. She closes her eyes and wraps an arm around Takemi’s waist. She feels Takemi laugh and she feels herself chuckle alongside her. This is nice. Being outside, being together, being outside and together— which has been mutually exclusive most of the times.

Here they didn’t have to hide, not anymore.

“Hey, kid.” After what seems like minutes, Ohya finally voices out an idea, “Do you do late hours?”

“Depends.” Akira answers nonchalantly as he sets down two cups of coffee for them. “As long as you scheduled prior it then it should be okay.”

She takes a tentative sip. It goes down her throat smoothly. It’s strong but she’s always preferred strong drinks and this is immensely satisfying. She sneaks a glance at her girlfriend who seemed equally enamored with her coffee and she thinks she looks sweet, and suddenly her coffee tastes sweeter. She reaches for her hand, they intertwine over the counter.

Coffee has never tasted this sweet.

“Huh, is that so? Maybe I should make a reservation.” Ohya gives their hands a gentle squeeze. “I’m thinking of having some coffee every other night or so.”

“That sounds lovely.” Takemi plants a kiss on her cheek. “I just might join you sometime.”

They still drink at Crossroads from time to time but a cup of coffee helps every now and then.

 

**Author's Note:**

> They're lesbians, Harold.


End file.
